Escape to the Sea (Tangled Hearts #1)

Chapter 24 Goodbyes

Tomlyn

The walk the rest of the way through the forest is uneventful and I make small talk with Ephraim about everything and nothing. He rambles about his vineyards, how the yield this season should make for a fine wine. I talk about an experimental ale brewer who set up a shop in the Market district. It takes a few hours, but then there it is, the tree line ends. Beyond the trees are rolling hills covered in golden grass and picturesque rows of trees. It’s incredible, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

“There they are,” he says softly next to me. “The prized grapes of Vinitore.”

“Those are the vineyards?” I ask, my eyes scanning the horizon.

Ephraim looks at me quizzically. “Yes, of course. Have you not seen grapes on trellises before? Even elsewhere in the countryside?”

“Cutie, when I came out of the caves I spent two weeks lost in the woods as I made my way to Yaventown and then got swallowed by the Belly. I only know what grapes look like from the market.”

He laughs, warm and sweet, and I’m missing the sound of it already. I force my gaze to stay on the vineyards. Off in the distance, a cluster of bright purple in an unmistakable march formation moves through the rows.

I pull back into the tree cover and Ephraim's gaze follows. He takes a few steps towards me, looking up at me with a thoughtful expression.

“Looks like the guards are looking for you,” I say. Internally I want to groan. No shit, idiot. We just saw them. I guess… I don’t know what comes next. “We should meet up with them quickly.”

Ephraim shakes his head, his messy golden curls bouncing a little. “Not we. Me. My time as part of the cluster is at its end. You need to leave.”

“E, I can’t—”

He steps towards me firmly, chin raised and face set. “Yes, you can. I’m home now. It’s time for you to go home too. To Atrea.”

I open my mouth to object, but he places the soft pads of his fingers against my lips. It’s too much. I want to go, need to go, but I don’t want to leave Ephraim. I think back to what I told Sylf in Desire’s manse—Ephraim and I are nice together. Real nice… But not anything that can be long-lasting or real, no matter how much I want it to be.

Sighing, I nod and he drops his hand. “You, uh, got everything?” I reach out and finger his collar and the golden necklace underneath. His eyes lock with mine, and I realize he’s standing so close to me. My brain slows down as my gaze drops to his pouty lips. I’m rambling now, trying to fill the space between us because there needs to be space between us. “The necklace good? And your quarterstaff? What about the satchel with your—”

I should know by now that Ephraim has way less restraint and patience, but I guess one more reminder can’t hurt. Especially when it involves his mouth firmly pressed against mine. My hand along his collar moves to the back of his neck and into his hair as my other arm wraps around his waist.

I all but crush him against me as I deepen the kiss, desperate, passionate, trying to drink in as much of him as I can. He’s so warm, so sturdy, and so alive. In this moment there’s only Ephraim. I don’t know how long we’re like this, in this moment of bliss, but eventually he draws back and presses his forehead to mine.

He’s panting heavily and my own breath is ragged. If only we had a little more time… But then, slowly, Ephraim pulls back.

“Thank you,” he says.

I manage to find my voice. “Don’t sweat it, cutie. All in a day’s work.” I wink and he chuckles, smiling fondly.

“Mm, all in five days of work.”

The sight of his radiant smile sends my heart racing all over again. Truly, this is the most beautiful man in the plane, and, for a little bit, I got to have him.

I tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “Want me to pass something back to A?” I ask.

His face falls as he thinks. “I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that she’d listen to, at this point.”

“Maybe so. But I’ll still try.”

Ephraim rises up on his toes, delicately places his fingers on my chin, and presses his lips lightly against my cheek. There’s a bittersweet tenderness in his kiss as clear as day. A goodbye of its own kind that I know will mean something to her, even if she won’t admit it aloud.

He draws back smiling sadly, stepping out of my arms. “That will have to suffice, I think.”

I nod. “I’ll pass it along as best I can.”

“Thank you.” He looks back out at the tree line. “I’m glad we met. I only wish it had been under different circumstances. I think we could have been great friends.” He trails off and lets out a short sigh before looking at me again. “Thank you, Tommy. Truly.”

I smile at him, thankful. “The Great Flame keep you, Ephraim. And don’t walk into any more webs, yeah?”

“Don’t walk into any webs?”

“It’s a charger saying. Like, you know, don’t throw yourself into trouble.”

He chuckles. “I’ll do my best.”

“Right.” I give him one last look and an awkward wave before forcing myself to turn around. I take a few steps, my heart heavy even though I’m going back towards Sylf. I mean, I should be grateful. He doesn’t want to hang me, and I got a really hot goodbye kiss. For a simple knock-up highway robbery job that went sideways, this is the best, unimaginable, outcome.

It doesn’t feel that way, though. With each step it’s like I’m abandoning something precious, which is dumb because he’s a prince and I’m no one. There was already a chasm between us and our lives. This misadventure brought us together in a way that will never happen again. The odds were one in a hundred, a pure roll of the dice, and—

“Tommy? Yaventown is that way.”

I stop, my thoughts abruptly interrupted, and I turn. Ephraim is pointing in the opposite direction I started in, his smile broad and golden eyes warm.

I laugh at myself, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, right. Of course. I was… uh… Okay, you know what, thanks.” I awkwardly shift in the proper direction. “I’ll just, uh, be off then. In the right direction.”

Ephraim laughs and waves. “Yes, I’m sure that’s preferable. Do be sure to look out for the bog stalkers. I’m sure you’ll recognize them when you get there. Don’t get stuck. If you follow the way the branches point, they’ll take you north and then even you can’t miss the Ringed Road.”

I wave again as I head out. “Yeah, yeah. Mating season. Don’t step in or you’ll get stuck. Got it, cutie.” With my back turned, I give him another wave and finally head off to the real north. To home, and whatever comes next.

~*~

It’s midday and hot and there are still bugs despite wearing the totem necklace. But I don’t think about my bloodsucker arch-nemeses, or the fact that I left behind the most incredible man I’ve ever met. Instead, I focus on the cake I’m going to bake for Sylf after I manage to make it out of this hellhole of a forest. Something sweet, something tart, and something bitter. Maybe I’ll try my hand at a three-layered cake. Why not? Getting out of this alive and back home safely deserves a three-layered cake.

I’ll stop by the church too, make sure they’re all right. I'll have to be careful, though. If Benny’s Dozen are hunting Sylf and me in the Trunk, then I’ll have to stay longer topside in the Market District… Damn, that’s going to be a problem. But first, I have to get out of this forest and back to Yaventown, where I’ll never see Ephraim again. Which is exactly what I need, even if it’s not what I want in the slightest.

“Come on, Baker. You’re a brute from the Trunk. You got no business running around with a prince,” I chide aloud. Spoiler—it doesn’t help.

The forest is largely quiet as I make my way though. In a way, I finally understand what Sylf finds so special about the place. There’s tranquility in the rustling of leaves in the breeze and hearing rabbits leap from bush to bush, skittering away. It reminds me of the natural ambiance of the caves. For a bit, I don’t mind the forest, not really.

Then, a foul stench like someone shat in water and left it sitting reaches my nose. It doesn’t help that the air is thicker, making the godsawful smell all the worse. This must be the bog where the bog stalkers are. A mosquito lands on my neck and I slap myself, missing.

I take it back. The forest still sucks.

Drawing up my mask around my nose, which does nothing to help with the smell, I take stock of the bog. The trees look sunken into the foul, gloopy water that seems to stretch for miles. But, weirdly, there’s a pattern of branches pointing in a certain direction–it’s too many to be a natural coincidence, and on closer inspection it looks like the trees are deliberately trimmed. Probably to help poor unsuspecting souls like myself, thank the goddess.

Then, I hear a loud whump and a rumbling gurgle as some of the moss and trees on the ground rise to reveal part of a large tangle of vines. I don’t know if it even has legs, or arms, or eyes, but Ephraim was right; it has to be one of the bog stalkers. How does that thing even reproduce? Does it—you know what? I really don’t want to know.

I bet Ephraim would know. He’d probably have way too many details and be way too enthusiastic about the explanation.

Okay, so, options. Trees seem good and sturdy, I think. They aren’t like the big, thick-rooted trees in the parts of the forest we were in before, though. They’re thinner and spread throughout the bog without as many big branches. I could probably hop between them though, with the right tools. No different than crossing a cave chasm, I guess. Except infinitely more disgusting if I fall in.

Luckily, there’s a tree with a sturdy-looking branch nearby that I start from. I reach into the aether and pull out red chalk and some stakes. I’ve seen the chalk before at the church and it should stand out enough against the trees so I can mark the path. All right, I got this. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’m close.

I fix the stakes to my hip, tuck the chalk into an accessible place on my belt and back up to get a running start to leap up onto the branch. But before I can start my run, I hear barking in the distance. Shouts follow and I know I don’t have much time. I can still make it up and across the pond before they can catch up. I’d be exposed, but from what I’ve seen of the Yaventown guard, the grunts don’t have good magic. I gotta hope they don’t have crossbows or arrows. Once I’m far enough, I’ll lose the guards and, if I’m lucky, they’ll find the rest of Benny’s Dozen.

I ready my run stance again and a stray thought crosses my mind, halting me in my tracks: what if they find Sylf instead? I don’t know where she is, if she’s circling back to meet up with me, or if she’s still giving the Dozen the chase. And if they find the Dozen and Sylf together, well, that’s even worse.

I look at the putrid bog in front of me. “Fuck me,” I groan. I move over to the branch, and, making sure I have a good grasp, I wince as I step into the water. Thick vines curl loosely around my leg and I start to suck me in. At this point, though, I can still pull myself out. Not good enough. I sink my leg in further, as the bog stalker starts to gnaw through my trousers as the vines tighten their hold on me, like a toothless dog is trying to chew on my calf very softly.

“Gross,” I mutter. I test my leg, but it’s firmly stuck. Great, I guess. I suck in a breath and hope this works.

“Oh no!” I cry loudly in a near-flat tone. “I’m stuck! What will I do?” This is so dumb and so annoying that I can’t even muster the energy to make it sound convincing. I can picture Sylf in front of me, arms crossed with an incredulous ‘really?’ expression and Ephraim standing next to her with that cute grin that comes through even when he’s trying to stifle his laugh…

It doesn’t take long for the guards to arrive, dogs barking and snapping angrily. They’re all wearing purple, so they’re from Vinitore, not Yaventown. Huh. I mean we are close to Vinitore, but how did I make it through this entire trek without running into a single guard from Yaventown?

A middle-aged human man with white-streaked hair and a wrinkled forehead steps forward, pointing his spear at me. His breastplate is more decorated, so he must be the one in charge. “You there! What business do you have in this forest?”

I shrug. “I was going for a stroll and got stuck. Can you believe it?”

“No,” he replies flatly. A horn sounds in the distance, once then twice. Turning to the others, the guard nods. “His Highness has been found! Clearly this…” He looks at me skeptically.

I give him my best smile.

“…vagabond is connected. Pull him out and bind him! Signal for the other troops to return to the castle!”

“Me? A vagabond? Over going for a walk?”

Another guard, a blue-skinned demonkin with curled goat-like horns, points at me. “You’re wearing all leathers, you have spears at your back, and you’re wearing a mask over your nose.”

“Do demonkin not have a good sense of smell? Because this place reeks. Although there’s a demonkin I know who definitely must not have had a good sense of smell, because her place has this disgusting shrine and—”

“Shut it!” The human guard snaps. “We know some termites from the Trunk are skulking around and our prince has been missing for days, thanks to you lot!” He turns to the others and barks. “Get him out of there and clap him in irons!”

“Oh no, you found me out,” I say dryly. The demonkin gives me a hesitant look, a touch suspicious, but moves next to me. He takes my jagerstocks, eyeing them curiously before tucking them carefully into his holster as several other guards help get my leg unstuck. “I hope you haven’t found any of my other comrades.”

“No,” the demonkin guard says slowly. “You’re the only one.”

“Only because that lot managed to skulk away in the nick of time! I’m sure your fellow thugs are running into the Yaventown guard as we speak!” the human guard snaps, crossing his arms.

Praise the Flame! If Sylf managed to get away from Benny’s Dozen and the Vinitoran guard, it means she got away clean. I let out a sigh of relief as my leg comes free. The demonkin immediately grabs my wrists with surprising strength and binds them with a spell before putting enchanted iron cuffs on my wrist. Wow, they really don’t want me to get away. I can’t help but test the bonds, but my wrists are secured tightly.

Two of the guards grab my arms at either side and pull me forward, starting towards the rolling hills of vineyards. When we clear the forest and reach the first row of trellises, it strikes me that Sylf would love this. I can already imagine her shadow weaving in and out of the picturesque rows, teasing me, my Mistress beckoning me to her. A hunt of its own kind, ending with her legs around my hips as we crash into one of the trellises, destroying it and squishing grapes between us.

But that won’t happen. I won’t be holding her again anytime soon, if ever again. I guess I never really thought about what came next. My gaze drops to the ground, the beautiful landscape too much to take in.

Time blurs, but I still manage to take in the seaside village and all the alleys. Vinitore is so different compared to Yaventown—a lot more free-standing buildings, that’s for sure. They drag me to a more fortified part of town, which I realize must be the guard tower. This is more familiar as I’m taken downward and tossed into a cell. The spell around my wrists lift so they’re no longer bound, but they keep the irons on me. Must be some sort of anti-magic warding.

I stand back as the grizzled soldier slams the cell door shut, cocking my head at him, quipping, “I ought to thank you, you know.” Me and my dumb fucking mouth. “I was really tired of being in the forest anyway. The mosquitoes, miserable little shits, are the worst.”

The blue demonkin makes a snorting noise and the grizzled soldier shoots him a glare. Eh, at least I made one of them laugh. It’s the little things, I guess.